


I will sing no requiem tonight

by friendly_local_cryptid



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Fix-It, M/M, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Slow Burn, depends on my self control tbh, ish, making this up as I go so the tags will undoubtedly be a mess, no thanks, we all really said canon?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21547327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendly_local_cryptid/pseuds/friendly_local_cryptid
Summary: Richie was still sat on the bed. His hair and clothes had dried from the barrens hours ago, his mind still thrashing there, trying to outswim the trail of someone else’s blood pooling around him.He breathed in the smell of the sewers, the hot metallic crimson stink of blood under his nails, tasting pennies under his tongue, the smell of seaweed and river rocks scrubbed raw under heavy feet, the smell of summer wind wiping and thrashing against his falling body, plummeting into the water bellow with a hollow burning splash.He breathed out was was left of him.A knock came, urgent and desperate, and he looked over at the clock. 4 am.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, and probably - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	1. Bevvie has a midnight thought

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Dear Evan Hansen's "Requiem", but just that line, the rest of the song is doing its own thing. 
> 
> So I usually write what I like to call SHsS (short, shitty and sweet) fics, but I was compelled to start writing this, even though I already have an on-going reddie fic that I don't want to abandon. We'll see how this goes, I have nothing planned, it'll be a fun adventure for all of us together to figure out what the fuck I'm doing. 
> 
> My last reddie fic was the Obligatory Marriage Proposal (it's the very definition of an SHsS, if you want to read it). Now we have the Obligatory Canon Can Fuck Off, Eddie Lives And I Have A God Complex fic.
> 
> Hope you like the first chapter, it's short and a bit of a sad one, until we get Eddie out of the sewers.
> 
> Also, happy birthday to mon amie Mireya, ilysm, miss u b 💖💖💖 (if you like where this is going, it can be your bday present; if not, sorry, wait till you come back)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But you know what they say about Derry…” -shut up, shut up, shut up- “No one who dies here ever really dies.”
> 
> “No one who dies here” -Eddie, Georgie, Stan, dad, Eddie- “ever really dies.”
> 
> Beverly rushed out of the shower, broken gasp echoing around the tiles. 

Beverly sat up in bed. The cold air from the AC made her stark black silhouette shiver in the burgundy dark of the hotel room. She could feel it piercing her bruised muscles, grazing freezing fingers down her exposed spine, coiling icily in her chest. She’d been kicking off the blankets only a few hours ago and now sweat had dried, cold and clinging like a forgotten dip in the lake. 

She got up, feet padding tiredly to the bathroom, pulling a discarded flannel shirt from the floor tight around her shoulders. She looked into the bathroom mirror, blinking away the quiet dizziness from the sudden lemon meringue light filling the room with a soft click and a whirr, waiting for the shower to warm up. She looked tired. She looked beaten. She looked like she’d gone through all nine circles of hell before happily settling down in purgatory. They all did. She cast her eyes down to stare blankly at the sink. Well. Last time she’d seen Richie, after walking him, stumbling, to his room, he’d looked like he was still somewhere in the fifth circle, drowning under the Styx. 

She slipped numbly into the shower, peering in apathy at the stains on the curtain and the black mold framing the shower floor. Eddie would have died before showering in here. God. Eddie. She felt a wave of nausea hit her square in the chest and her knees buckled. She breathed in sharply through her nose, water coming up stinging, as she backed against the wall, eyes snapping shut. Eddie, Stan. Richie. God. _Eddie, Stan._ But they’d beaten It! They’d beaten It, dammit! Fucking clown, they’d killed It, It was gone! She dropped onto the pooling steaming tiles, hands clasping at her dripping red hair, knuckles white, like pearls on the sickly twisted crown she’d crafted around her shaking head. She wanted to scream; all that came out was a low broken howl of pain as tears finally hit her. They were dead, dead, _dead_ , and she was alive. She had gotten out.

_“But you know what they say about Derry…”_

What, what did they say about this godforsaken place? That demon hidden behind a carefully kind old mask, waiting for the perfect moment to rip it all off and come at her thrashing. _“Are you still daddy’s little girl, Beverly?”_ No. No, she wasn’t, she never was. She hit the wall with her fist, sending a precariously balanced shampoo bottle clattering to the floor, eyes strained wide on where the sink waited behind the curtain. 

_“But you know what they say about Derry…”_ -shut up, shut up, shut up- _“No one who dies here ever really dies.”_

_“No one who dies here”_ -Eddie, Georgie, Stan, dad, Eddie- _“ever really dies.”_

Beverly rushed out of the shower, broken gasp echoing around the tiles. 

  
  


***

  
  


Richie was still sat on the bed. His hair and clothes had dried from the barrens hours ago, his mind still thrashing there, trying to outswim the trail of someone else’s blood pooling around him. 

He breathed in the smell of the sewers, the hot metallic crimson stink of blood under his nails, tasting pennies under his tongue, the smell of seaweed and river rocks scrubbed raw under heavy feet, the smell of summer wind wiping and thrashing against his falling body, plummeting into the water bellow with a hollow burning splash.

He breathed out was was left of him. 

A knock came, urgent and desperate, and he looked over at the clock. 4 am. 

“Richie, it’s Bev, please”, her voice came panicked and strangled through the hotel door. He pulled himself up like a puppet and its puppeteer all in one, and opened it blearily.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, here, listen”, she was wrapped in a dressing gown and soaking wet, shivering and dripping all over the carpet, She paused to study him, eyes blown wide, catching her breath, “Oh, Rich, have you even tried to sleep?”

He shrugged, letting her follow him in, “What’s wrong?”

She collapsed on the bed and Richie sat beside her, mindlessly pulling at the covers to wrap them around her trembling shoulders. She smiled gratefully, pitifully, and she lifted a corner up, gesturing for him to crawl into the cocoon with her. He did. 

“What has brought this fair lady wet and shivering into my bed at this ungodly hour”, he said, trying for humour without his brain registering it. She blew out heavily, eyes searching blindly, thoughts scratching furiously from inside her but too heavy to put into words. She finally sighed through her nose and looked at him.

“Richie, I have- I think maybe, there’s a possibility of something, but I really really don’t want to be wrong.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to make it all even more painful by giving us false hope.”

“What, Bev?”

“What if- what if he’s okay?”

“Wh-”, Richie snapped his head towards her, “Eddie? What, why?”

“What if- I don’t know, I’ve just- like the dreams, like in my dreams, but now instead of seeing him dead, I see him trapped under tons and tons of rock and hurt and alone and I try to reach him but- and it’s stupid but It said-”

“What if they _are_ dreams? I can’t- Beverly, I _can’t_ \- if there’s a chance-”

Beverly grabbed Richie’s shaking hand, desperately quiet. Richie breathed, rubbed at his eyes. 

“I’ll go look for him. I don't care.”

“Bev, if he’s- if he is- god _fucking dammit-_ ”

“I’m going to rent some gear or something and I’m going to go into the sewers and find him, tomorrow.”

“Bev”, he sounded so broken Beverly felt the sudden urge to coat him in glue and place him carefully on her mantelpiece to watch for the cracks. He sighed and it sounded more like the whine of a starving kicked dog, “I’ll go with you. And even if he is- if he isn’t- he deserves to rest somewhere -anywhere- else.”

Beverly started crying with antsy relief, looping her arms around his waist as they huddled close, and Richie started crying too, but it was a defeaten tears silently rolling down sunken unshaved cheeks type of cry, one that was too afraid to sound hopeful but starving for a reason to look up again. They watched the morning sun crawl white and tired through the blinds. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooowee
> 
> Okay
> 
> Started this new thing, let's see how long it takes me to update again. A day? A month? Two years? Who knows. How exciting.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Comments and kudos mean the world and it's absolutely, sadly and honestly, what motivates me to continue writing, so feel free to leave me your thoughts. ily, ty, see you soon hopefully :) ❤


	2. wake up, your turn isn't over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen. The Universe is a game of dice. People say it’s chess, it’s not, chess has rules. The Universe has no rules, no objective, Eddie, you must understand, you were a roll of the dice. But the one who rolled, It wasn’t playing anymore. So we rolled again. And you have to go back, now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooh boy. 
> 
> Second chapter already? On the same day? Someone's really desperate to procrastinate the hours away and not touching their work even though it's due tomorrow, huh? Anyway. 
> 
> Enjoy! Hope you do! It's another short one. Stuff starts moving in the next chapter, I think. Thanks so much for the lovely comments I've gotten already! They do mean a lot :)

Bill stirred awake feeling like he’d barely closed his eyes, wide open and immediately exhausted. Mike woke up feeling like his brain had dribbled out of his ears through the night and was now puddling around his head on the pillow. Ben woke up with his whole body buzzing numbly, swatting tiredly at invisible flies in his periphery. They all woke up alone. Bill reached for his phone, guiltily opening Audra’s texts. Mike rolled over, face in the white lazy sunlight, feeling, with a sense of cosmic horror and grateful release, that he had absolutely nothing left to fight now. Ben got up to look for Beverly, stomach stirring with childish butterflies as he remembered he could just do that now. He got dressed, decidedly shoving yesterday’s clothes into the trash can, and gently knocked on Beverly’s door. Nobody answered and he walked downstairs. 

“Oh, Richie, hey”, he said, feeling his throat close up guiltily as he saw his friend, bent over on a sofa, steaming cup of coffee clasped shakily and a clenched-jaw determined expression on his face as he stared down at it, as if it was that mug that had stolen everything from him just yesterday. And here Ben was, skip in his step, looking for Bev; he felt slightly sick as he mentally kicked himself. Eddie was gone, and here he was. He swallowed thickly, walking over to sit next to him.

“Hey, Handsome”, Richie rasped out, his eyes heavy and red, “How’s sleeping beauty doing this fine morning?”

Ben huffed a little laugh, squeezing his shoulder.

“We get it, he’s hot”, Beverly appeared with a steaming mug of her own and Ben blushed, smiling shyly as she sat down next to him, “Hey, Ben. Are the others up? We need to talk.”

Richie cleared his throat before he could answer, “We should already be looking, Bev.”

“It’d be stupid to go just the two of us.”

“Er… Go where?” Ben turned his head indecisively from one to the other. Bev bit her lip thoughtfully and Richie rolled his neck stiffly, looking at the ceiling.

“We’re going to find Eddie”, she said. Ben sucked in air.

“You mean, his… Yeah. Maybe we should get the- the fire department to look for- for him, or something, I don’t think it’s safe to go in there, the whole structure could collapse-”

“No, man”, Richie bit out, still staring straight up, “Not his body. Bev said he’s alive and he’s fucking trapped down there and you know the emergency services in Derry won’t do shit.”

Ben stared at him, turned helplessly to Bev, “What?”, he whispered softly, when she just nodded.

Mike and Bill’s voices floated down to them as they clambered tiredly around the staircase.

“Bill, Mike. Do you know about this?” Ben turned to them, confused.

“Huh? What’s up?” Mike said, already alert. Bill set a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“Guys, we gotta go”, Richie murmured, setting down the mug. Beverly reached for his arm, but he pried himself away as he got up, rubbing his face in frustration. He repeated himself, louder, “We gotta go, he’s been down there all night, we should’ve gone when you told me-”

“Rich”, Beverly stood up after him, Ben still looking helplessly at his friends, who were clearly consumed by exhaustion and grief.

“W-What’s going on?” Bill tried again. 

“I think Eddie’s still alive”, Bev said quickly, and Mike staggered back into Bill, who flashed his eyes around the room, as if he half expected his dead friend to be sitting on one of the armchairs, sipping on an orange juice. 

“What… fuck?” said Mike, eloquently. Ben nodded, mouth worried into a thin line as he gestured between Bev, her jaw set defensively, and Richie, who was pacing, hands pulling at his face. 

“Um”, said Bill, “I don’t- wh-why do you th-th-think that? He’s- guys- I’m sorry.”

Richie growled in frustration, and set off towards the door without another word. Bev looked around at them, begging silently, before huffing and following after him. They stood in silence for a few seconds before they heard the door closing and Mike rushed after them. Bill followed him at a quick pace and Ben gestured vaguely to himself, alone in the middle of the living room, before he ran after them too.

  
  


***

  
  


Cold. Cold cold _cold_ , his soul a frozen skipping stone over a boiling bursting swaying furious infinite river of crimson. An eye, somewhere above, angry sapphire blue and calm warm blood orange, watching. Watching him collide with himself, over and over. 

His name was somewhere around here. He felt his hands, _he had hands_ , he felt his hands dip into the river, turning charcoal black and frosty white. He felt his feet walking a billion miles worth of milky ways. He felt his eyes roll back to watch his footprints form behind him, his skull a mere mirror for the universe, grass yellow prints amongst the stardust. He felt winds of every colour wip his body into every possible shape, leaving the marrow of his bones turquoise and untouched. 

_Eds._

He licked a star, passing by, bit into it like an apple. It tasted of pomegranates and the tiniest bird skulls. It tasted of red wine and cashews and magpie feathers and the ticking of a clock. He let it float away. He was happy, so so happy. 

_Eddie-bear._

He squinted at a passing asteroid shower, fiery blue, slow and decadent. His stomach, his insides, _he had insides,_ churned, liquid purple. He had never felt sadder. 

_Eddie. Eds. Eddie._

A turtle, giant and watery and wise and absolutely infinite, floated over his head, around him, inside him. 

_Eddie?_

Eddie? That was him. The turtle pulled at him. No, no, don’t make me go back, he was safe here, here he was limbless and small as a pinprick and he was the biggest creature ever created, comfortably filling up the Universe. He’d thought about dying his hair once, he couldn’t decide on the colour but he didn’t have to, he’d never do it. Don’t make me go back, it’s so cold. He’d sneaked a chocolate bar into his room once, his mother had screamed at him later, that’s when he discovered that she looked through his room every morning. Don’t make me go back. He’d died alone. No, Myra was there, surely. That was a name that he associated with his deathbed. Myra? _No,_ someone else then, someone else, someone _beautiful,_ infinite, and he hadn't told him. Him? Him. Him.

_Eds_. Don’t call me that. Don’t make me go back.

_Eddie, listen._

He looked up, down, at the turtles watery eyes.

_You weren’t supposed to go yet._

What?

_Listen. The Universe is a game of dice. People say it’s chess, it’s not, chess has rules. The Universe has no rules, no objective, Eddie, you must understand, you were a roll of the dice. But the one who rolled, It wasn’t playing anymore. So we rolled again. And you have to go back, now._

No, no, no- or- or yes, maybe, maybe… Suddenly, that’s all he wants. Overwhelming want, overpowering need to _be_ again. 

_Eddie. You understand, you have to go back. Your turn isn’t over yet._

Okay. 

He wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, not a hundred per cent on this one, not gonna lie. But writing from a dead person's view was really fun. Next chapter will hopefully be a little better writing wise and will move the story forward, sorry. Will probably end up editing this chapter a wee bit at some point (nothing plot wise, dw, just iffy writing).
> 
> Again, kudos and comments mean the world! Thanks so much for reading! ♥️

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: local-cryptid-writer, come chat :)


End file.
